


Disconnected Cables

by Aviantei



Series: Disconnected Cables [1]
Category: Bleach
Genre: F/M, I just love Mizuiro okay, Kubo didn't give me more so I wrote it, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-09
Updated: 2019-12-09
Packaged: 2021-02-26 04:15:50
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,532
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21737443
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aviantei/pseuds/Aviantei
Summary: [One Shot] "I sleep around with women so I don't have to go home. I'm a really good liar, you know. I fake relationships to pass the time." But that summer, those words did nothing to deter her, and I was left with a bit of a conundrum. Will you listen to me? [MizuiroxOC]
Relationships: Kojima Mizuiro/Original Female Character(s)
Series: Disconnected Cables [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1566712
Kudos: 3





	Disconnected Cables

**Author's Note:**

> This one shot was originally posted on fanfiction.net on December 23, 2015. For all the characters in Bleach, Mizuiro has remained my favorite. Kubo gave him plenty of interesting character traits and backstory fodder and then proceeded to hardly ever touch on any of Ichigo's school friends ever again. So, yeah, I wrote more content myself.
> 
> This one shot somehow managed to morph into a series so there will be more parts uploaded later on once I get to the queue.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

**Disconnected Cables**

By: Aviantei

A _Bleach_ One-Shot

* * *

Hello? Hello? Are we properly connected? There’s a story I’d like to tell you, something that’s very important to me. Or rather, it’s something I’d like to get off of my chest. So, even if you’re not listening, I intend to tell this story anyway. The only difference is whether or not you hear, and that’s really your decision. I guess I could add in some incentive for you to do so, except I honestly can’t care whether or not you do. I just think it might interest you, after all.

This is the last story I intend to send along these cables, after all.

It’s also the first time I guarantee that I the story I send along these cables will entirely be the truth.

* * *

The thing that gets me about her is just how eager she is to get involved with me. There are plenty of other girls I’ve been with, and plenty of them have thrown themselves at me without even giving me the chance to be a good guest and take off my shoes at the door. What the difference is lies in the fact that all those other girls can go and get their kicks somewhere else. Even if they come back to me more than once, they perfectly understand that I am not the only person in the universe to run to. I should know. It’s not exactly a rare occurrence for me to go walking down the street and see a woman I got acquainted with just a few nights ago already attached to the arm of someone else.

And that’s fine. I get that. I’m really no different, except I’m the one that has to jump between homes and women to find a roof over my head that I’m satisfied with. I could go home, but only if I’m desperate enough. Sometimes it’s difficult to find somewhere, but I haven’t had the need or desire to sleep in my own bed for over three years. There are nights when I even wonder if my room still has any of my things in it, or if it’s just some storeroom now.

Part of that’s thanks to her. Some women ask me to stay over when they have something planned, and it simply works out that spending the night is really the most convenient option. There are others that make it perfectly clear to me that they expect me to be gone in the morning, not even a phone number on their dresser to remind them that I was there. Even so, I used to make a point of never sleeping over unless I was invited, resulting in more than a few nights of having to break into my own house because I stubbornly refused to take a key with me and it was too late to bother Keigo . In her case, she quickly made it clear that I was welcome to come and share a bed with her whenever I needed it, no sex necessary.

It’s just part of her enthusiasm to be around me. There have been times when she asks me to come over, just to hang out. I’m not used to that. Maybe from Keigo, sometimes from Kurosaki, but most certainly not from anyone I’ve slept with before. Even when I tried to explain to her what exactly I do, in the most blunt way as possible, it didn’t deter her. She offered for me to come over and have dinner sometime in the next few weeks, whenever I was hungry.

“I sleep around with women so I don’t have to go home. I’m a really good liar, you know. I fake relationships to pass the time.” Hearing that did absolutely nothing to make her want to throw me out of her house, not even off the bed. Maybe she was still addled from the sex, but even when I tried to talk about it later she just shrugged me off like it was no big deal.

Sometimes I think about calling it off, telling her that I can’t stay around her anymore. But she’d probably just smile at me, tell me about some free time she has in her university schedule or ask if I want help with anything I’m dealing with at the moment. I don’t think I’d be able to stand that, so I don’t say it. I try to avoid her, but even without cell phone calls or text messages from her asking for me, I still end up on her doorstep, or entering through the window I know she leaves unlocked for me, slipping into her bed while she’s still asleep.

She smiles at me in the mornings, too. I can’t figure out what she’s thinking for the life of me.

* * *

It’s almost two in the morning when I sneak in through her bedroom window. This really isn’t what I had in mind for the night, but it’s how it ended up. Apparently I didn’t play the puppy eyes strong enough or something like that, because I didn’t even get the chance to start off on how I don’t have a place to stay at night. Not to mention my choice was one of those women who kick their partners out of their house without time to rest, like they can just saunter down the avenue after an orgasm without any recovery time. I feel stupid for not noticing the marriage band on her finger ahead of time and make a note to always check in advance. I never used to make that mistake.

I guess it’s become more of a lie that I don’t have anywhere to go home to. At first it was just the fact that I _could_ go home if I needed to, I just never wanted to. Now it’s not only that, but now I can go to her house at any time, so I don’t even have a home to worry about returning to in the first place. Sometimes I’m stuck wondering why I ever even bother trying to find somewhere else that will definitely have strings attached. Maybe it has to do with the fact that I end up feeling like a charity case or I’m taking advantage of her if I just keep coming back.

I know taking advantage of older women’s tastes is how I’ve gotten by so far, but when it comes to her it just seems wrong.

The lights are off, so I start to think that I can just slip into the bed and be done with it. By this point I’m exhausted, mostly because taxis tend to steer clear of kids wondering around in the middle of the night. That and I have to avoid any of the cops that would get on me for being out past curfew, even though it’s summer. It’s also a long walk from the Red Light District to her cozy suburban neighborhood, and my legs feel like they’re about to give out any second.

Once my eyes adjust to the lack of light, I can tell that my estimate was wrong. She’s just getting to bed at an hour like this, stripped out of all of her clothes besides her underwear. Her back’s turned to me, but she looks back at the noise I make by opening her window and successively climbing into it. I can’t properly see her expression, but I can tell she’s smiling, just like she always does.

“Hey,” she says.

“Hey.”

I go about closing the window, and she lies down on the bed while I’m not looking. By the time I look back, she’s looking back up at me, expectant eyes staring, making it obvious what she wants. “You’re out pretty late…” she remarks, her hand reaching out for mine. I get gently pulled down into the kiss, no urgency, just happiness transferred between a pair of lips. “I know this sounds corny as all hell, but I was thinking about you.”

That sentence could mean a number of things, but I choose to take it to the extreme up front so as to avoid having any misunderstandings between us. “I’m not exactly up to anything too exhausting right now,” I say, bluntly. It’s completely different from how I talk to other women and I don’t know why. “Would you settle for a bare minimum effort with a rain check in the future?”

Anyone else would throw me out of their house. Sometimes I wish she would. Sometimes I wonder if I intentionally say horrible things to her so she will kick me out. In the end, she doesn’t kick me out, so I have no idea how I really feel about such a hypothetical situation. Unlike the other women she only giggles, makes a small hum in the back of her throat of understanding. “As long as it’s you I don’t mind at all.”

There’s that enthusiasm again. I still don’t know how to handle it so I cut to the chase. Her panties get discarded to some other corner of the room while I let my tongue and fingers do the work so I don’t have to speak. She’s more sensitive than usual, which would make me consider the idea of her not masturbating if I hadn’t climbed in through the window to an unexpected show to prove otherwise. I try to recall how many days it’s been since I’ve been here and find that in a haze of heat and sex that I haven’t the slightest idea.

It takes less time than usual, and we’re tucked under the blankets soon afterward. The sleeping habits of all the women I’ve shared beds with goes across such a spectrum that I don’t want to bore you with the details. She’s the only one that insists that she’s cuddling against my side, one arm exposed to the air, her face nuzzling against my neck, and had whispered an “I love you” before it’s deemed alright to sleep.

I never say anything close to “I love you” back. She never makes me.

* * *

“Hey, Mo-kun, come here! Mo-kun! Mo!”

It’s this shout that gets called throughout the house, even though it’s the middle of the night, way past two whenever I first arrived. She’s lying just where she was before, tucked into my side. The only difference is that the second before she was almost asleep, even with the television still playing loudly in the living room. She’s sensitive to sounds when she’s trying to sleep, and this is no exception. The loud noise of her siblings shouting across the house to each other makes her body tense up as she starts to wake.

She makes a disgruntled noise and buries her face into my chest. I don’t know why she bothers to block out her vision when it’s her functioning ears that are giving her the trouble. Despite my exhaustion, I’m still nowhere close to sleep, even though it’s only been a relatively short amount of time since we’ve lied down. Whenever I do finally get to sleep, it’s going to end in sleeping in way longer than I usually let myself get away with. It’s a habit from usually getting woken up at some hour or another to get cleaned up and get out of the house. Since I’m a somewhat proper if not illegally entering guest in this house, I let my guard down and that instinct’s been slowly slipping away from me.

Not that I’m going to get to sleep anytime soon with this racket. They’re still shouting back and forth, like it would be such a pain to walk across the five feet it takes to get to the other’s room. It makes me wonder what the parents are doing, except they sleep like logs. Suddenly, a thought crosses my mind. Even though I should keep it to myself, it seems like she’s awake enough to at least appreciate a little humor.

“They’re rude. At least you and I have the courtesy to keep our noise to ourselves when other people are trying to sleep,” I say. At first I think she doesn’t want anything to do with my joke, but I’m rewarded with a small snicker a second later. It’s quiet, but it’s enough for me to continue on. “What do you say? If they actually decide to go to sleep any time soon, we can return the favor?”

Another soft laugh meets my ears, bringing a small enough smile onto my lips. “I’m up for it if we’re still awake by then,” she responds. “Although if I’m going to be screaming you need to do your job properly, alright? Not to say you didn’t get the job done…” She lets the point of there, putting an end to the joke. At some point, the shouting stops and she falls asleep soon afterwards. It makes me wonder about her day if she can actually pass out so quickly, but I’m left with no one to ask and a prayer that maybe I can fall asleep soon, too.

“I mean, I don’t even feel like this is my _home_ anymore. No one gives a shit about me, not even Mom. I just want _out_ of here, no one would care.”

“But if you just try and _talk_ with your mom—”

“No. There’s no way.”

And with that lovely assertion and a number of ones that end up following it, I am brought back to the world of the waking. Although it’s less of a volume issue, the ruckus caused is almost worse than it was last night, but at least you could argue it’s at more of a reasonable hour. Or maybe not so much, since a look at my now dying cell phone tells me that it’s almost noon. While that’s fine for summer vacation, I don’t like the idea of some parental unit coming in and realizing their daughter is sleeping naked in bed next to the guy they thought was just a sweet, innocent friend of hers. I’d like to see me try and show up at the dinner table after that one.

She’s waking up next to me, well aware of the ruckus that’s being caused by her sister in the next room over. She doesn’t particularly seem to empathize, though, considering the first thing she does is let out a small laugh. I look at her face, seeing that she still has her eyes closed like she’s debating on whether or not to wake up or not. I can tell by the way she’s lying against me that she’s conscious whether she likes it or not, especially with her eyebrows furrowed like that. Not caring in the slightest about the people around her, the sister’s tirade continues.

“You don’t understand what you’re saying! I want to be here for you, but you don’t understand what it’s like to lose things like this!”

“Are you telling me I don’t understand my own situation? Is that it? _You_ don’t know because you still have a mom that gives a shit about you!”

“At least she still has a mom to complain about,” I say without thinking. My voice is so soft that I hope she won’t hear me with all the noise coming from next door, but that’s not the case. She nods against my chest, in perfect understanding without even knowing the entirety of my situation. I’m left to deal with my mixed feelings about the woman who gave birth to me, which end up getting tossed aside into the back of my brain like always. “All I have is a made up mother, and if I complained about her, that’d be really pathetic, right?”

I drop the lie out of my lips. I’ve said it so many times that it’s pretty much the truth. I haven’t seen, nor contacted, Kojima Nanako in two years and three months, not that anyone’s been counting here. She hasn’t bothered to contact me either, so we’re even. Sometimes I wonder if she even remembers she has a son, but then I make myself stop thinking about it. After all, if I don’t have a home to go back to, why should there even be something like a mother figure left over in my life?

“Yeah, seriously,” she responds, a light tone in her voice. I can tell she’s faking her smile, but there’s no way I’m going to call her out on it. She doesn’t call me out on my bluffs, so doing that to her would just be rude. “I mean, you don’t hear me bitching about something like a problem that would be solved by communication. That’d just be silly.” We continue to lay there in silence and lies and unspoken problems while nothing but irrationality slips in from her sister’s room.

In the end, I’m the one to sit up first, looking around to make sure the small bag I carry around with me is still all in one piece. She notices this and sits up, not even bothering to cover herself with the blanket. I’m left to wonder if this is some sort of ploy to get me to stay longer, even though I doubt it. Even when we don’t have sex she’s like this, though I’ve never bothered to ask why. I’ve never had a reason to complain, either.

“Come on, you can’t be thinking of leaving already,” she says, reading my mind, or at least my body language. If I’m that obvious about my intentions I need to do some work, or try and make it so she doesn’t know me so well. The first one seems more probable. She steals my phone from my hands and attaches it to her charger. “I can think of two things you need after last night before you go anywhere, and that’s a charged phone and a shower.”

Seeing as she’s already taken care of the first one for me, I have no choice but to comply with the second. She wraps herself up in a towel she keeps hanging from the closet and leads me down the hall to her western-style bathroom without any incident. The day officially starts with the shower drowning out any other noise outside the room before I’m clean and sneak out of the window with a full stomach and a charged phone.

* * *

It only takes a few days before the call comes in, and I’m whisked off to some beach down south for a vacation that has Keigo cursing my name probably enough times to rival the level of malice incorporated into the one-hundred-and-eight impurities of mankind. I don’t even bat an eye, mostly because it’s become a tradition at this point for Chieko-san to invite me on vacation with her and her friends, many of which I’ve met over the years, and somehow know their names, even if I have to look through my cellphone contacts first.

Chieko-san is probably the most frequent I see out of the group, her at least checking in on me every few months to see how I’m doing. I’ve been in her house upward of four-dozen times in the few years that I’ve known her. Shiori-san dotes on me whenever she gets a big paycheck, usually letting me camp put at her place for a few weeks until her good fortune goes away. Kaeda-san is a face I have to force myself to remember, mainly because I’m certain I’m at the bottom of the list of people she calls when she’s desperate. The other girls I’ve only seen on similar trips in the past, or are meeting for the first time because they’re new here.

e new here. 'n similar trips in the past, or are meeting for the first time to remember, mainly because I'lace for a few weeks Man, with this many women vying for my attention I should just get a job at a host club and let everything else come naturally. I’m almost certain I’d be able to live a happy life that way.

I’m assuming that they’ve come to some deal about not overwhelming me, because I’ve only been seduced/pulled into/asked for sex a few times, and the rest of the time is spent with all of them together. I know Keigo will be jealous if I say anything, although I’ve been wondering over the years how much of that jealousy is used to cover up his worry. It’s a conversation I don’t particularly look forward to having, so I don’t intend to be the one that starts it.

And it’s during an afternoon that isn’t too hot with all the girls running across the beach and splashing each other while I take a break under an umbrella with a refreshing breeze blowing in my face that my phone ends up ringing, the caller ID informing me that she’s calling. Without even thinking I answer, no consideration to the fact that any of the girls I’m here with could come in earshot at any time. I’m expecting an offer for free food anyway, so the conversation should conclude fairly quickly.

“Kojima speaking.”

She giggles, probably because she doesn’t think the introduction is necessary. I do it out of some form of stupid manners that have been engraved in my head and from an example a certain person I used to call all the time set for me. She just skips the introduction, getting to the point. “Hey, were you planning on coming over anytime soon?” she asks. There’s no expectance to the question, like she’s trying to invite me over. It’s just a question out of curiosity, one that only wants an answer.

“Well, I’m on vacation for the week, so no,” I say. She’ll put together the pieces, I’m sure of it. Because my words aren’t a rejection, just a statement of fact in response to a practical collection.

She makes a little humming sound, the way she does whenever she understands something she’s been told. “Okay, that’s good. The whole situation will definitely be over by then, and I just didn’t want you worrying if you were on your way over and saw the cops. Since that’s the case, I guess I was worrying for nothing.”

There are a number of things wrong with that line of sentences, so obvious that I shouldn’t have to point them out for you. I sit up from where I was laying down, propping myself up with an arm behind my back. I accidentally end up putting part of my hand down on the hot sand instead of the beach towel but don’t bother to move it. “Skipping all the way to the climax of the story without even making it sound like you’re going to tell the whole thing is bad writing and you know it,” I say, trying to keep the worry out of my voice, although I don’t know whose sake it’s for. “If you’re bothering me like this it must be something big, so what happened?”

I wonder if she’s frowning on the other end of the phone, because she’s quiet for a few moments. I start to wonder if she’s going to hang up on me when I hear movement, but in the end a door a closes and she takes a deep breath. “Long story short, Mo-kun and I got into a fight with our sister and she pulled out a knife from the kitchen.” Almost as if she senses my question or just wants to get the entire thing out of the way, she continues, “She was complaining about how he treats her badly, so I stepped in and said maybe if she didn’t treat him like shit they wouldn’t have this problem. She was going on and on about how I don’t know anything and that I can’t talk like that to her in her house and how she was going to try and make me cry.”

Breaking the stream of words, she laughs. It’s quiet and I almost miss it, but it’s definitely there. “I couldn’t help it, she was trying so hard I just ended up laughing, so she only got madder. She and Mo-kun fought and I tried to pull them apart, so she decides to go and say I was holding her down so Mo-kun could hit her and I hit her, so she hits me, trying to get me to start a fight so she can blame me. Like I’m stupid enough to fall for that. So she grabs the knife and Mo-kun and I leave the house, visit a neighbor, and get Dad to call the cops. Other than Mo-kun’s shirt getting torn up and a mark where my glasses dug into my face when she hit me, we’re all fine. The cops are still processing the report. Satisfied?”

I frown without realizing it. I have some memory in passing being told that her sister has a mental disorder, though I can’t remember which one it is for the life of me. I also remember being told that she should be on medication, so something like this shouldn’t even happen in the first place. The fact that it did means that the sister is off her medicine for who knows what reason, but that’s not what matters here.

She’s laughing. She could have been seriously injured or killed even—a bit dramatic but completely realistic considering—and she’s sitting on the other end of the phone _laughing_ about it. I don’t know why it does, but it bothers me. I can hardly believe that she’s like this, and I’m the guy who used fireworks to fight off a guy like Aizen who could easily slaughter our city if he had been given the chance. Somehow, this is different, mainly because I didn’t laugh about it. I was too busy being relieved about being alive and worried about Kurosaki-kun and just the tiniest bit unconscious for that. And I know the two situations don’t compare in their severity, but that doesn’t make it any more laughable.

And I’m not satisfied. That explanation doesn’t satisfy me in the least. But if I stay quiet too long she’s going to realize it and the rest of the girls are going to realize it. So I say, “Yeah.” Nothing else, just that one word, and put all my effort into it because otherwise even I don’t know how this conversation will end. “Just be careful around her, okay? It’s nice having a bed to stay in that doesn’t have to be bought out with my incredible skills.”

She snorts. She honest to goodness snorts, which makes me feel a bit better that she’s laughing at my joke and not the situation. “Right, right,” she trills out, laughter still mixed in with her voice. “I’ll be sure to avoid her wrath for your sake, Mizuiro. After all, you still owe me. Though you better hurry up and get home. She absolutely _hates_ me now, so I may not be here if you stay away too long.”

I know she’s still joking. I want to make a joke back, just so I can pretend this is a funny conversation and not a serious one. For some reason the words stick in my throat, and I don’t even know what they would be if they came out. On top of that, my heart’s beating way too fast for some dumb reason or another. And while my silence seems like forever, she never gets the chance to call me out on it.

“Mizuiro!” one of the girls whose names I don’t remember calls from the side of the ocean. I can see a sandcastle being built on what would be the perfect summer day if my mind wasn’t hundreds of kilometers away right now. “Come on, you’ve been sitting under that umbrella for _hours_! Have some fun will ya?!”

“My trip doesn’t last too much longer. I’ll be back in a few days,” I say, quickly. I don’t even know why I’m saying that. She didn’t ask. It was just a joke. But for some reason I feel hurried, like I need to get this trip over with already. I’ve never felt like that before. I hang up before she can catch my mistake, and turn my phone off afterwards. On top of that, I shove it into one of the girls’ bags so I won’t be tempted to look for it until I absolutely need it.

Which in this mental state may be sooner than I think.

Pushing the thought aside I make myself run over to the side of the beach, thoroughly soaking my head under the water until I stop breathing and stop thinking. Primal instinct and more than one pair of hands insisting I come play some game with them are the only things that pull me out of the water.

* * *

The first thing I do when I get back is go to her house. I even have Chieko-san drop me off at her door, but I don't have the time to feel sorry for that. The only thing I can think about is making sure she's still in one piece, that there hasn't been some other incident that she _didn't_ feel like it was necessary to call me and let me know it happened. I don't even make it to the door without having the stupid thought that she would still be laughing about it even if she ended up in the hospital.

Her father is the one to answer the door. I awkwardly introduce myself with the help of Mo-kun, who's met me about once. Once I explain that I'm a friend of his daughter's, the father of the household lets me by, apologizing that he's going to be out of the house because he just got called into work. I don't ask any questions, just politely excuse myself and almost run down the hall once I'm out of sight. Judging by the open doors, no one else is home aside from the boys and her.

Like always, her door is closed.

I try to calm myself down first. All this running around like an idiot isn't going to get me anywhere. I don't even know what I'm so worked up about. Girls I've been with have complained to me about traffic accidents, cramps, getting old, and everything else under the sun, and I've never batted an eye once. Always that perfect smile on my face that no one seems to get isn't real as I employ the usual condolences.

Suddenly, the door opens, and there she is. Whatever mark she was talking about between her glasses and her face is just a faded bruise that's probably really a shadow that I'm being paranoid about. There's nothing else to indicate what happened to her as the truth, not even bags under her eyes. She could sleep soundly in the same house where that happened to her? Whatever goes on in her head is way beyond what even my twisted mind can understand.

"Oh! Hey, Mizuiro!" she chimes. I watch her body language like I'm going to be able to catch some indication that she's hiding an injury from her father, her brother, from me. I don't find anything. All I see are smiles, so I put on one of my own. "I'm glad you came back from your trip. I wanted to see you!"

Her arms slip around my shoulders, an embrace so distinctive from everyone else's. Other girls usually pull off the seductive look, trying to segway into sex or taking advantage of me or whatever I choose to play victim to. Whenever Keigo hugs me in the few times that I let him it's usually just some stupid ploy of affection.

But with her, that's never how it is. There's something warm about the contact that goes beyond the sensation of skin touching. She smiles and laughs and says my name like it's the most important thing in the world. The sensation would probably make me sick if I didn't like it so much.

We eat something like dinner that's thrown together from leftovers. Her brother disappears to pick up some fast food and phones back that he's staying the night at some friend's place. Her sister apparently hasn't bothered to come home since the day I received the phone call on vacation. We have the house to ourselves. It starts with cuddling. It could stay at that stage if we wanted it to, but neither of us does.

She doesn't hold herself back this time, and I don't either. The sound fills the entire house, a fact that dully registers in the back of my mind. She's not even embarrassed. I'm too busy focusing on the sound of her voice.

It took me a few goes to figure out what makes it different. Depending on the girl, screaming in sex is nothing unusual. I personally don't have a preference as long as I have a bed to sleep in. She says my name like she's hanging on for dear life. She never says anyone else's name, which should probably be less awkward than it ends up being for me. I may not know ‘cause I've never heard it before, but it might be what love sounds like.

I certainly hope not for her sake.

* * *

I can't remember where we started, but we end up lying on the bed. I try not to consider how I would have been greeted if her father knew this was the ultimate reason that I came over. I'll probably have to sneak out the window in the morning and have to give an address to Chieko-san to drop my luggage off at. I should have at least brought a change of clothes with me.

I find myself frustrated with the fact that she's uninjured. Her entire body—and I've seen every centimeter of it at this point—is just a splay of smooth, pale skin and nothing else. Even running fingers over it can't find any imperfections aside from the ones I've become familiar with: a scar from when she broke her arm, a mole on her left side, some freckles despite her lack of sun. When it comes down to it, if she's hurt I could protect her.

I shouldn't want to protect her. I've only ever wanted to protect myself and she can protect herself and that should be end, but it's not. For the first time in a long time, I feel like I'm making a genuinely stupid decision.

She lets out small noises from the contact from my hands, slipped between slowing paces of breath. She's probably ready to go to sleep, and I really should just let her. My brain is addled from the sex, except I don't remember having this feeling before. "Hey..." I say before I can stop myself.

"Hm?" she asks, just barely fulfilling the requirements for a question. I consider stopping right there. If I'm lucky, I could probably get away with pretending to go to sleep. I forego the opportunity, just barely whispering the words.

"I think I like you..."

She doesn't react. For a second I think that she's fallen asleep, saving me the trouble of coming up with an excuse. Then her breath stops for a moment, subsequent intakes of air speeding up to make up for lost oxygen. In the end, her breathing is normal, a small smile on her face whose presence I can just barely perceive through the dark.

"You must be really tired, Mizuiro..." she says. If she were more awake I can only guess that she would be laughing right now. "Go to sleep..." She's dozing off before I can even argue. I take her advice and close my eyes.

* * *

She actually gets up before me the next morning, and I wake up to an empty bed for the first time in a while. I know that it’s not like she’s left, because she would have gotten me out of the house first, but it’s still unsettling. I have little knots lining my stomach at the thought, but her phone’s still here, as well as various other belongings. I conclude that my confession of last night was serious.

I know it’s silly. I’ve only known her for summer vacation, barely a month. We haven’t become necessarily intimate, and the sex doesn’t count. But she feels different than the rest of the girls, and my feelings towards her are different, too. I’m serious about her, and I should tell her.

It takes me a few minutes to pull my things together, mainly because my clothes have been thrown across the room and seem to be mixed in with hers. Partway through, I stumble across a datebook, the pages open. I know I shouldn’t pry, and I don’t intend to, until the words catch my attention from my peripheral vision.

 _Able to move back in: 12._ The words repeat in my mind a few times before I catch onto their meaning, and even more until I realize the consequences of it. We haven’t talked much about our lives outside the summer, and all I know is that she’s a university student living in campus housing. The date that’s noted on this calendar must be when she’s allowed to go back.

And it’s only a few days from now.

Whenever she finally comes to check on me, I keep my mouth shut. It may just be an act by my imagination, but she seems distant now, like the whole thing’s been a joke. I feel like I’ve been imagining everything that makes her different. The length of time outside of sex has been the only real difference, the rest is just me.

I guess that means I really did fall for her, though.

I think about still saying it. Doing so won’t make her stay, but it’ll make me feel better. I don’t expect her stay. I want her to. I always want to have this room to come back to, to have her to lie by in bed, to not need to jump houses for the trade of sexual favors.

I keep my mouth shut. She may accept “I really do like you and this is not a joke,” but she won’t accept the rest of it. I know that I don’t have to say all of that, but I feel like if I get started, I’ll never stop, and then it’s even more than done for. I’m selfish enough to want to keep this day to myself, to choose when it ends for me.

And we do spend the day together. It’s not really a date. I don’t even dare to suggest one. We’re just supposed to be people who spend time around each other. And she does everything the same as she would have before, and I’m the one that’s changed. I’m used enough to having to explain to women that I don’t intend to commit any. I’d like to spare myself the pain of being rejected.

And in the end, she gives me that sad little smile. I’ve only seen it a few times, but I don’t consider it something foreign. It seems to fit her perfectly, and I think too much about it. The only kind of happiness she’s suited to is short-lived and not without sacrifice.

“Mizuiro,” she says, and I memorize the way she says each syllable, repeating it softly in my mind. “Summer’s almost over.”

“Yeah,” I say. “Yeah, it is.”

She doesn’t say goodbye. I refuse to. Even though I know it’s the end.

* * *

But she smiles at me. And before I leave her house she says, “Thanks, Mizuiro. Thank you for everything.” And it breaks my heart.

“Thank you, too,” I say. My mouth is dry. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay.” My throat constricts. I walk away before she closes the door. I fall asleep on a park bench about a mile down the road.

* * *

We once were all worried about the prospect of Kurosaki leaving. The idea that someone you’ve always known, someone that’s always been a staple will just disappear seems impossible, like there’s no way they could ever just vanish. Like the universe wouldn’t let them. You’re not even remotely convinced it could happen, because it just _can’t_.

This isn’t nearly as dramatic. She hasn’t vanished from existence, just from my perception of it. I won’t be able to look around as see her, or talk to her anymore, but she’s still alive. She’s still out there living, going on in life. She probably doesn’t even think of me. She certainly hasn’t sent me any calls or texts.

I haven’t sent her any either.

School starts back. It’s been a while since my uniform’s gotten some use. I feel like an idiot for not remembering that summer vacation does end, that there’s responsibilities we have to take care of and we can’t ignore them forever. I’m not a child anymore. I can’t afford to think like that. But I did and I got swept up in some fairy tale.

I’m such an idiot. I was never able to make connections with people. All of the contacts in my phone aren’t really connections either. The best that I have are fuzzy, and rifled with error. Even the one I share with Keigo. Why did I ever think that I would be able to build a more stable set of wires with her?

So I go on with life as normal. I go to class. I find some way to sleep at night without having to go back to my house. I do my homework in the library and I eat meals with Keigo, at Kurosaki’s place. I wander around on weekends, and sometimes I end up walking through her neighborhood, knowing that even if the lights are on, she isn’t there anymore.

* * *

One day after school, Rina-san calls me. I haven’t heard from her in a while, or maybe I just lost track of who all I was talking to in the summer. Regardless, Rina-san’s been a consistent part of my life ever since I started running away from home. She was the first one to let me stay over. I could always go to her if I needed it.

“ _How have you been doing, Mizuiro?_ ” Rina-san asks. She sounds half worried, half as inviting as I remember. It was her voice that won me over back then. “ _I haven’t heard from you in a while. Is everything okay? You haven’t gone and gotten in trouble have you?_ ”

“No,” I say. I may think I’m in trouble, but she won’t see it that way. She’s never been happy with her marriage, which explains me. The idea of not being able to see someone wouldn’t be a problem to her. “I was on vacation, so I was staying at a friend’s house.”

It was a lot more than that, but I don’t think Rina-san knows that. I don’t think she catches on. She just laughs. It’s nothing like hers. “ _This was your last summer as a high school student, wasn’t it? Well, I hoped you enjoyed it to the fullest!_ ” She pauses, and the tone of her voice shifts. “ _You shouldn’t impose on that friend of yours forever. Why don’t you come and stay at my place tonight?_ ”

I normally would say yes. I wouldn’t even think about it. For some reason, I end up hesitating. I shouldn’t. I need a place to stay, but I don’t want it to be like this. I know what it will turn into, and I don’t think I can take it. I’d rather sleep outside again than be in someone else’s bed right now.

I make myself smile, even though Rina-san can’t see me. It’s always been easier to sound convincing if I look it. “Sorry, I already have plans for the night, Rina-san,” I lie. “Maybe I can come over some other time? If you still want me, that is.”

“ _Of course, don’t be silly. You can come over any time you like. I don’t know why I worry about you so much, Mizuiro. You can take care of yourself. But sometimes I just can’t help but think I need to take care of you. Isn’t that strange?_ ”

It is strange. I’m just seeing it now. Rina-san’s joking but I’m taking it seriously. I don’t know why she worries about me so much either. I’m just someone she can use. I may use other people, but at least I don’t go through the lengths of pretending like I care on some horrendously intimate level.

“No, no, it’s not strange at all. Thank you for worrying about me, Rina-san. I’ll keep in touch, okay?”

“ _Alright, Mizuiro. Take care. Call me if you need anything._ ”

The first thing I do after I hang up is delete Rina-san’s number.

* * *

Despite what I’ve said, I really don’t have any place to go. I’m stuck wandering around for a bit, avoiding my usual hang outs on purpose. I don’t want anyone to recognize me, to pull me along for the night. I end up in her neighborhood again. I consider sleeping in her backyard, but there’s a chance of me being caught. That and fall’s been approaching for a while, and it’s going to be too cold to sleep outside for much longer.

I take a chance with her window. It’s still unlocked, just for me. I push my bag in and set it on the floor before jumping through myself. It’s dark, but the lights outside trickle in through the window. I plug my phone in and go to lie on the bed, still in my street clothes.

The blankets feel warm, but I’m sure that’s just my imagination. I want her to be here, even though I know she’s kilometers upon kilometers away. I never did learn anything about where she went to school. Is it cold there, will she get snow? Or is she down south and have an ocean nearby? I don’t know and I don’t think I’ll ever find out.

The door to her room opens and I almost have a heart attack. Standing there, shrouded by the hall light, is her brother. He looks at me and I stare back. I had almost forgotten that this was actually his room and that she was just using it temporarily. This won’t end well. He’s going to get his dad, and I’m going to have to run. I’ll never make it with my bag, so it’ll have to stay behind. My student ID’s inside and they’ll be able to track me down, though.

This sucks. I just wanted a bed and I’m going to get charged with breaking and entering.

None of that happens, though. Her brother—Mo-kun, was it?—only closes the door and turns on the light. He doesn’t even blink. He smiles a little, and it’s a lot like his sister, and I can see her smiling at me, not even bothered. They’re definitely siblings.

“You’re the guy that Nee-chan was sleeping with,” he declares.

Well, that’s an interesting amount of information. He knew the whole time? I can’t seem to remember how old this kid is, either. He can’t be any older than middle school age. But he still understands what sleeping around is and even has the knowledge that his sister was doing it. On top of it, he’s not even bothered by the information.

Yep, they’re definitely siblings.

“I am,” I admit. Mo-kun shrugs as if it’s obvious. I’m actually embarrassed about this for once. Just how much did she tell him? “I’m sorry for showing up like this. I know she’s gone, but I was just looking for a bed to sleep in for the night… I can leave if you want.”

I don’t know why I say the last part. Of course he wants me to leave. I’m in his room. I shouldn’t have anything to do with his life. I don’t want to leave, though. I’m tired of sleeping on park benches and running the risk of getting picked up by some patrolman. I want a stable home again for the first time since my elementary school days.

“Nah, it’s okay,” Mo-kun allows. “I’d let you stay in the guest room but one of my aunts is over. I can grab you some blankets and you can sleep on the floor, though.”

He has to have realized that I’m pretty much homeless by now. Maybe that’s why he’s doing this. Maybe he just doesn’t care at all. I shouldn’t care about these sorts of things either. I get to stay inside for a night without any favors. I even get bedding and a pillow.

“Thank you,” I say. I can see her, right before she left. She’s reflected in her brother’s smile. “Thank you for giving me a place to stay.”

Mo-kun leaves the room to gather supplies and I take a shaky breath.

* * *

We end up talking before falling asleep. It turns out that Mo-kun misses her almost as much as I do. I don’t blame him. From what little I experienced, their sister is a nightmare, not to mention her condition and refusal to take medicine for it. I felt oppressed just overhearing her. I can’t imagine having to stay in the same place, having direct contact with her day after day.

We don’t talk about the bad things for long, though. Even with how little they see each other, Mo-kun isn’t out of things to say about her. I almost worry that I don’t have anything appropriate to talk about around a middle school student, but it’s not a problem. Over the summer, she and I have done enough besides sleep with each other that it’s easy.

Talking, I realize how much I miss her. I also learn a lot of things about her. I almost get jealous. There’s part of me that wants to have learned about it on my own, without her brother’s help. That’s just not possible, though, so I accept it and fall asleep.

* * *

I leave the next morning carrying a very important piece of knowledge.

I know what the name of her school is.

* * *

My first instinct is to call Rina-san and ask for money to take a trip with. Then I realize Rina-san’s number is gone from my phone. After that, I realize that it’s stupid, and she’d never react well to me coming all the way to see her. I delete the other girls and women’s numbers as well, until the only ones left are her, Kurosaki, Keigo, and the few others from my classmates.

I try my best, but breaking into her house already shows I’m terrible at resisting temptation.

After I’ve waited a few days to clear my head, I look the place up. It’s a private university in some small town up north. Not too far up north, but far enough. No wonder she came to Karakura for the summer. I’d probably go farther south if I were in her shoes.

It’s not that outrageous of a train ride, but I don’t have the money laying around for that sort of thing. It’s still for the best. I look at the enrollment requirements while I’m still online. I wince. The price tag on this place isn’t a joke. Even with scholarships, the dent in your finances is nothing to laugh about.

Not that I’d be able to earn any of those, anyway.

I lean back in my chair. What else can I do? There’s a chance we could meet up next summer, but I don’t want to wait that long. I don’t know if she’ll come back here anyway. I don’t even know if I’ll be here. I graduate in the spring. I’m going to have to move on with my life and accept that this was just a fling.

“There you are, Mizuiro,” Keigo says. He even has enough sense to whisper in the library for once. “Man, I’ve been looking all over for you. You ran off once we were dismissed.”

“Yeah, sorry about that.” I don’t even have it in me to joke with him right now. I exit out of the internet browser as soon as I see Keigo’s eyes drift toward the screen. No need to involve him in this. “I just needed to look into something important… So, what do you need?”

Keigo frowns for a bit. I wonder if he ever learned to figure out when I’m lying. He shrugs, so I guess not. “This apparently got sent to the office for you.” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out an envelope. “You weren’t around, I volunteered to bring it to you.” I go to thank him, but I stop.

Because the handwriting on the envelope is my mother’s.

* * *

There’s not much inside the envelope other than a small note and some yen bills. The note reads as follows:

_Here is the information for the savings account your father set up for your university funds. I’ve withdrawn some of the money for you to use on application fees. Do your best on your entrance exams._

That’s all she has to say. There’s no mention of “Mizuiro” or “Kojima Nanako” or anything. If it weren’t for the handwriting, I wouldn’t have been able to tell who it was from. I thumb through the money. There’s plenty for several applications and even some to spare. Just how much money did my dad leave behind for me? I never knew him, so it’s a mystery.

“Hey, Mizuiro, are you okay?” Keigo asks. I’ve been staring at the note for some time. I shove everything back into its envelope and deposit the whole mess back into my schoolbag. Keigo pouts. “Come on, I’m your best friend, man. If something’s bothering you, you can talk to me, okay?”

I don’t say anything. I suddenly realize that Keigo is my best friend, though, mainly because he’s put up with my habits all this time. I’ve never really opened up to him, though, and he deserves more than that. After everything he’s tried to do for me, he deserves more than that.

I don’t have the words yet, though. Too much has happened. I need to think.

“I promise I’ll talk to you about it sometime soon,” I say. I grip the handle of my school bag a bit too hard. “Would it be alright if I stayed at your place for a while?”

Keigo’s eyes widen. For a moment, I think he’s about to start a scene. I should have known that asking a favor like that would only end in him almost throwing a party. It doesn’t, though. Keigo just smiles, and I get the feeling that I don’t deserve it.

“Of course you can stay. You don’t even need to ask.”

* * *

I haven’t slept over at Keigo’s place in a very long time. Back in middle school, he insisted on it a lot, saying that because we were friends it was what we should do. Eventually, I got involved in too many things, and Keigo seemed to notice that I never cared much anyway. I barely even visit his place just to stop by anymore.

I expect Mizuho to greet us when we come in before I remember that she graduated last year. I don’t even know where she moved to. Keigo’s parents aren’t home yet, and I follow behind into his room as we go. He keeps talking about how long it’s been, trying to make a joke out of it. I realize he’s just trying to give me space until I’m ready.

Keigo’s more perceptive than I thought he was.

How did I not notice all this time?

So we make small talk. Keigo does most of the overall talking, but I still do my best to contribute to the conversation. Most of my mental capacity is spent trying to figure out what to say until halfway through some story Keigo’s telling me about his vacation that I start to let it all out.

Or at least most of it. I don’t tell him about her. I don’t really have any right to complain about girls in comparison to him. But I talk about school and my mother and how I don’t know what I should do next. I’ve been living on my own all this time, but I’ve been relying on the support of others while doing it. I don’t want to be like that anymore, but I don’t know how to support myself otherwise.

“Come on, Mizuiro, I told ya, didn’t I? I’m your best friend. You’re not alone. Everyone else will tell you the same thing, too. You don’t have to open up to them, but they’ll help you even if you don’t,” Keigo says. It’s half a scolding, half a reassurance. I want to laugh, but I don’t think I’d be able to keep up my mask if I do. Even if this is progress, that’s something I don’t want to expose Keigo to yet.

Somehow, I get the feeling that he knows anyway.

* * *

What started as a collection of blankets slowly becomes my permanent bed, even if it’s halfway made up of Keigo’s futon set that gets traded between the two of us every couple of days, either willingly or through theft. I don’t know what sort of story Keigo told his parents, but they don’t seem to mind that I’m going to be staying there indefinitely.

I give some of the money Nanako sent me to them for their troubles. The rest I use for its intended purposes, sending out applications to schools I know Keigo and Kurosaki and the others are also applying to. It takes me several attempts to fill out the application to her school, and even more to send it. The issue gets solved for me whenever Keigo dumps it in the mail for me without even asking.

Things keep going from there. I get a little more used to Keigo’s home. We come together and have study sessions for our entrance exams. What remains of the cash is spent on train tickets to the exams and back. Once the testing is done, there’s really nothing left to do but wait.

* * *

I become so engrained in continuing this ordinary life that I don’t even think twice whenever I get the call. The result is astounding when I look at the number. I deleted her number back at the beginning of high school, but I still can recognize it on sight. I almost don’t answer it, but there’s no point in putting it off. If she’s bothering to acknowledge my existence, then I should have the courtesy to do her the same.

I answer. “Hello.”

“ _Hello, Mizuiro,_ ” Nanako says on the other line. But she doesn’t sound like the Nanako I know, the one that always sounded agitated to talk to me. I realize that it’s almost been three years since I’ve talked to my own mother. Those three years must have changed something, since I hardly recognize the woman speaking to me on the phone. “ _There’s been a lot of mail sent to the house with your name on it. I thought you might stop by and pick them up, but you haven’t. Most of these look like they’re from universities, so you’ll probably want to read them soon._ ”

I can’t believe what I’m hearing. Could I really have been so stupid? The only way those letters could have made it to Nanako’s house is if I wrote down her address on the applications. I had to have done it. What was I thinking? Did Keigo notice and let it slip?

“ _Although, you’ll have to forgive me_ ,” Nanako continues. “ _I was curious about how you did, so I looked through a couple of them. You’ve been accepted to a couple of places already. I’m so proud of you, Mizuiro. Wherever you pick will be a great accomplishment… I’m surprised that you looked into a place like Nakagawa, but if you do choose to go there, you should have just enough money in that account to do it._ ”

I finally snap back to attention. It’s definitely strange to have Nanako talk to me like this, but I can’t focus on that now. _Nakagawa…_ It doesn’t register at first, but I recognize it a few seconds later. Her school. I was accepted into her school.

I can’t decide if my mother’s being honest with me or if this whole thing has been a joke.

“It’s fine,” I say. It’s fine. I can’t even care if she opened my mail. I screwed up and sent it to her anyway. “I really haven’t picked where I want to go yet. I’d have to look over the letters first and see where everyone else is going.”

That’s a lie if I’ve ever told one. I’ve already made up my mind. No one else even looked into Nakagawa University. I’ll be going there alone. Even after everything Keigo’s tried to do for me, I’ll be going at it alone. It might be better this way, though. I think seeing her again is something I should do by myself.

“ _You should probably look at their scholarships, too,_ ” Nanako advises. Then she laughs. “ _Oh, what am I saying? You should know what’s best for you by now. Feel free to stop by soon, Mizuiro. I’ll leave the door unlocked for you so you can pick these up, okay?_ ”

“Yeah, thanks.”

“ _Well, I won’t take up any more of your time. Congratulations again!_ ” And just like that, she hangs up. No ‘I love you,’ no waiting for me to call her ‘Mom.’ She must have accepted what happened a long time ago, maybe even before I did.

I plan to go back sometime whenever I think she won’t be home. It’ll be easier that way.

* * *

I send back my acceptance forms within the next week. Everyone else is taking care of their own University lives and preparing for graduation. I tell them where I’m going and not much else. They don’t need to be bothered by my reasons.

I constantly consider calling her. I spend evenings staring down my phone, hand hovering over the call button. I never do it. She’s probably too busy to want to hear what I’m up to. I’ll just have to go there and see if we run into each other, see what happens.

I delete her number and everyone else’s. Severing the connections feels good. Like I’m free. I’ve been overloaded with cables this whole time, and shedding the final ones lets me go wherever I want, without fearing what will happen if someone else pulls out the connection on their end.

I’m sure that I’ll get reattached to others soon, but for now, this is the way I’d rather that things be.

* * *

_final cable disconnect_

_communication: ERROR_

* * *

_Transmission Complete_


End file.
